Monochrome Clown

Maroon is the color of

that awful outfit you loaned me

on the day it was too cold to wear

the skirt I had frolicked over in the night before.

When we woke up, the world was bitter,

angry, cold.

The blustering wind

blew over garbage cans and bicycles,

human decorations the weather disagreed with.

I stared out of the window.

disappointed in the small white specks

that danced over your view.

I had nothing to wear,

you clothed me.

Anything of yours would send me swimming

in a deep lake of cloth.

The least you could do is

let me wear jeans, a sweater.

Something cozy to hold me all day,

with your soft scent woven into fibers of wool.

But the outfit you lent me, an embarrassment.

Misfitting maroon pants,

so worn my inner thighs peeked out

naked, exposed.

The maroon sweater, a matching shade

that made me a monochrome clown,

leaving for class out to the cold,

now no more uncomfortable than

waking in your bed.


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